


Strange Bedfellows

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tamingthemuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth and Daryl come to an understanding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season Two. Written for LJ's tamingthemuse community, for the prompt "leonardo da vinci"
> 
> * * *

Beth nudges the squeaky cart with her hip, reaches with both hands to pull half a dozen books from the shelf and pile them amongst the others. Fiction novels of all sorts litter the top of the cart, from fantasy and science fiction to the kind that her gramma used to call "bodice rippers". She makes a neat stack of those, rolling her eyes at the heavy stylized covers showing men with long hair and chiseled chests sweeping women in flowing gowns off their feet. 

"Damn woman should've learned to fight and shoot, then you wouldn't have needed any man to rescue you," she says softly.

But apparently not softly enough, because she hears Daryl snort in amusement from where he's also foraging amongst the stacks. Beth ducks her head to hide the blush that creeps up her cheeks, pushes the cart a few feet further away. She reminds herself that Daryl is a good man, if a bit rough and tumble; that he did everything he could to find that poor little girl and he's out there every day trying to hunt down squirrels or rabbits for them even in this weather and she has no reason to be intimidated by the man. 

She deliberately turns her back on Daryl and stands on tiptoe to reach the top row, pulls down a few more books to add to the rest and finds herself smiling at the paperback on the top of the pile.

It's one of a series that she remembers starting just a few weeks before everything went to hell, featuring a clever and feisty female detective who was always one step ahead of the men in her squad. There had been a killer on the loose – of course – and a whole bunch of false leads, and… 

Beth never did get to find out who-did-it. 

She glances over her shoulder at her father, huddled close to the fireplace. She knows he'd never complain about the cold, even though a person doesn't need to be a meteorologist or watch The Weather Network to figure out that it's been the worst winter Georgia's seen in at least a decade. The cold gets into her bones and hangs on with sharp teeth, so she can only imagine how it must feel to her father. 

And she knows he's right about the book burning, too. They've got to stay warm, and finding the intact bookstore had been nothing less than a blessing from heaven. Paper keeps the fire burning, keeps the cold at bay. She can even understand his desire to keep the important books safe, the history books and the books of philosophy that she'd never comprehend. Books that will maybe make a difference to the people that come after them. 

Her gaze drops to the detective novel in her hands. Just a frivolous little story in the grand scheme of things, nothing important about it at all. 

When a gust of wind shakes the small building, rattles the windows in their casings and sends a flurry of ice pellets against the glass, Beth makes an abrupt decision. She bends and puts the book into her messenger bag at her feet.

She's starting to straighten up when she sees that Daryl is staring at her. 

She opens her mouth, prepared to argue in her defense. She wants to tell him that the book might not be important but that sometimes a book should just entertain you, the same way that music does. She wants to tell him that a book that you love and the characters within it can almost be your friends; that they can keep you as warm at night as a blazing fire or a willing body. She wants to tell him that one extra tiny book won't weigh her down, no matter what Rick says about traveling light. 

Then she notices that Daryl has frozen halfway to putting a book of his own into his backpack.

Beth rises the rest of the way slowly, juts her chin. Daryl gives her a brief nod before completing the motion and tucking a book into one of the inner pockets of his pack. And as he turns away, she thinks she even sees his lips quirk into a bit of a smile.

Maybe he's not so intimidating after all.

* * *

Daryl watches from his place against the wall as Rick drags the second of the two leather chairs closer to the fire, presses a hand gently to Lori's shoulder to urge her to sit. She looks up gratefully – though she ain't showin' much and the pukings mostly stopped, she still looks pained most days, her face too pale. Don't help none that Rick won't hardly look at her, barely touches her no more.

"It's sad," Maggie says.

Daryl shifts, his thoughts stuck on Grimes, surprised that it's the farm girl that's gonna bring up how Rick and Lori walkin' on eggshells around each other ain't good for the rest of 'em. But Maggie's not even lookin' at Lori, not even seein' the way her gaze dropped when Rick stared deliberately over her shoulder, the way she tensed up and then tried to cover it by pulling the old blanket up over her legs.

Maggie's staring at some shitty painting on the wall. Near as Daryl can see by the low light, it's two animals – maybe dogs, maybe wolves – lookin' out at a full moon. Kinda thing you used to be able to get down at Bill's Hi and Buy for $4.99 and he'd probably throw in a free lighter or some shit just to get it off his hands. 

"What is?" Glenn asks.

Maggie lifts her thin shoulders. "All the art that will be lost. All the van Gogh's and da Vinci's sitting in museums all over the world, just… gathering dust."

"People will still paint," Beth says.

Daryl shifts his gaze to the girl, her chin propped up on her hands sitting cross-legged on the edge of the fire. Notes the way her eyes dart between Rick and Lori, the way she chews on her bottom lip before turning to her sister. Beth don't say much, sometimes looks like she'd rather chew on glass than open her mouth, but she watches everything. Caught her watching him a few times, even though she darts away like a skittish horse whenever he looks back. 

"Yeah," Glenn says darkly. "On cave walls."

Beth shrugs. "Doesn't matter where. Someone somewhere will _have_ to paint. Just like sometimes a person has to sing, has to get that music out or they'll just burst." She smiles then, and when she does all the hesitation in her falls away, and she shines. "Maybe Lori's baby will grow up and paint giant murals on the walls, telling the story in pictures of her family and how they vanquished the walkers." 

"That's a nice thought, sweetheart," Lori says. Even in the dimness of the room, Daryl can see the way her eyes give her away. She don't think the baby inside her's gonna make it. She might think none of them are gonna make it. There's a lot brewin' inside that woman, a lot that Rick oughta be workin' out with her if he still loves her. 

"Same goes for books," Beth continues, her eyes flicking to the fire burning steady from the fuel of a hundred novels. 

"I wish that were so," Hershel drawls from his chair. "The fact is, we can expect most people to be illiterate within several generations. If humankind survives this, and I believe we will, it will be to return to the dark ages."

Daryl expects Beth's face to fall at that, and he finds himself wanting to lash out at the old man, tell him to let the girl have her dreams. Ain't like any of them got much else. To his surprise, Beth just shakes her head.

"I don't believe it," Beth says. "Maybe our grandchildren will write an epic novel about a great walker killer. A warrior woman who saves the day."

"Or a western," Daryl finds himself saying. He blinks when all eyes turn to him, forces himself not to look away. Girl deserves someone to have her back, agree with her. Hell, maybe if people gave what she was sayin' some attention the girl wouldn't be so damn afraid to open her mouth. He lifts his chin, silently dares anyone in the room to disagree with him. "Everybody likes a good western."

Glenn turns away first, his eyes going back to the fire. Then Maggie, leaning her head on Glenn's shoulder. After a moment Rick announces that he's going to check the perimeter; Lori's eyes follow him out of the room and linger on the door until Hershel gets her attention. And he can feel Beth's eyes on him after everyone else has moved on, after the conversation has drifted to how long they can plan on staying at the library and what their food supply looks like. When he finally looks her way, she smirks at him, her gaze deliberately going to the backpack at his feet.

Yeah. Nothin' like a little mutual theft and floutin' of the Rick Grimes Rules to make people strange bedfellows. 'Cept maybe that ain't the right term for it. 

When he lifts an eyebrow, she glances over her shoulder before scuttling closer. 

"What?" he says when she's close enough that nobody else can overhear them.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." 

Okay, maybe that _is_ the right term for it. Daryl darts a quick glance over to Hershel – still engrossed in conversation with Lori, thank Christ – before leaning forward and gripping the girl's bicep. "The fuck you think you're sayin'?" he hisses. "I ain't—

Beth rolls her eyes. "I _saw_ you put it in your backpack, Daryl. And I've never read a western. Bet I'd like it, though." 

Daryl shakes his head, leans back against the wall and releases her to run a hand through the scruff of his beard. He feels like a goddamn pervert… until he catches the gleam in Beth's eyes. Girl knew exactly what conclusion he was gonna jump to. When he narrows his own eyes, she starts to laugh. And damn if he doesn't find himself smiling back.

"What you got?" he asks.

"Girl detective. You'll like her, though," she adds quickly. "She's smart and sassy."

Hershel calls her then, something about gettin' more books to stoke the fire during the night. He watches Beth nod, watches her stride off toward the stacks pushin' that damn rickety cart, her blonde ponytail bobbin' at her back. 

Daryl's learned a lot about himself since the world went to hell, and now he's got another thing to add to the list. He _does_ like smart and sassy.

Daryl pushes himself off the floor, hikes his crossbow onto his back. Tells himself that somebody oughta be watchin' the windows if the girl's gonna be wanderin' around in the store all by herself in the dark. Also, somebody oughta keep her company. 

Mostly, he's just wondering what he has to do to get her to laugh again.


End file.
